


Morbid Lust

by Noir_Dix



Series: The Gospel of Mary Goore [2]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Mary Goore - Fandom
Genre: (they go by FAST), A whole bunch more talky talky, ALL OVER the graveyard, Another flashback, Basil's having problems., Call your effin friends Dix, Dix has some weird kinks herself, F/M, Flashbacks, I admit nothing!, Let's have sex in the graveyard, Mary don't play that., More odd Mary kinks, Multi, Recuperation, There are a couple of plot points, This is Very, Vampire mindfuckery, What Mary wants in a sex party, again., very, very wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: I've been griping for a good couple of days about this. It wasn't SUPPOSED to be a Hail Mary fuckfest...Guess what?
Relationships: Dix/Mary G.
Series: The Gospel of Mary Goore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640098
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Dix made her way carefully through the old churchyard. The ground cover was dry & brittle; she should've worn some sneakers... But, _no_. She'd thrown on her old velvet Mary Janes. Again. On impulse. Again.

It was twilight. She'd been rising a bit earlier, lately. Not as early as Basil, but, still. It was an interesting development.

Mary stood in his doorway, smoking a cigarette & wearing some shredded jeans. You could see his black boxer-briefs, at the top of the shreds. He had his Misfits shirt on, again.

His face lit up for an instant, upon seeing her. He shut it down, quickly.

"Hey." he managed, around a puff of smoke.

She rolled her eyes. _Trying for standoffish_.

"Is for horses, jackass."

His mouth twitched.

"You look tired."

"Gee, Mary... Stop trying to sweep me off my feet."

He actually _did_ smile, at that.

"I am tired." she sighed, blowing at a loose strand of hair that had escaped being tied back. His smile hardened.

"Rat bastard keeping you busy?"

"Night terrors. Well, day terrors, I suppose. Ever since Mexico."

He was actively frowning, now.

"Why?"

She felt foolish, talking outside like this. His gaze softened.

"Come on in."

"Ooh! _May_ I?"

But, she abandoned the sarcasm, already weary of it.

"He's afraid that everyone that came to the concert is going to catch the plague." she slumped on a corner, at the foot of his bed.

He _had_ made it. Hadn't changed the sheets yet, though.

"The virus has triggered bad memories?"

"Yep." she stretched, yawning expansively & reminding him of her cat guise.

He snorted.

"Pussy."

"Don't."

"Oh, come _on_... I bet you've been mollycoddling the old goat."

"I've been trying to help him, however I can."

"Ugh. He's going to turn on you. It's only a matter of time."

"I know."

He sat next to her.

"He really is in sad shape, though."

"Don't care. You _know_ my feelings..."

"Mary–"

"Son of a bitch was supposed to–"

"What you did was unforgivable."

"–find me. Not–"

"He saw his wife & daughter."

"–fucking KILL me."

They just sat for the moment, staring straight ahead. Tense.

"Judge not, lest ye be–"

"Where have you been?" she glared at him, "Why scurry back out here, with your tail between your legs?"

He blinked.

"Where else could I go? Are you kidding me?"

She stewed for a second, before abandoning that ruse, as well.

"I'm sorry." her voice wobbled. "I'm just really fucking tired, you know?"

He eyed her. She was beyond exhausted.

He gently took her chin, turning her head for a vaguely clinical examination.

"Haven't been taking your meds?"

She smiled a little, at that.

"No, sir."

"Bad girl." he planted his hands, to lean back. "Well, get on with it."

"Do you have a request?" 

Her eyes were dilated. She was going to go for his neck. He shook his head, just slightly.

"My God, you've gone all bony–"

"I bet you say that to all your girls."

"Give me a minute..." he looked at her, assessing. "Would you prefer delicate? Am I creeping you out?"

She rolled her eyes, yet again.

"I've seen the worst of it–"

"Have you, though?" his look went smug, "I've felt you, you know. You always stop, right outside that door."

"Because I never wanted to know. Not all of it."

He kissed her, in an utterly devastating way.

"Liar." he breathed.

Her eyes went wide.

"Let me show you."

"Do you still taste like Hershey's Special Dark?"

"You tell me." his breath caught, as she sank her little fangs. They were a lot like his, actually.

She was there. Dead leaves crunching loudly underfoot. The wind blowing briskly. A pause; a brief reflection in a window of the church, one of the very few buildings that had glass.

"Oh, my God!" she squeaked, effectively killing the vision. "You were a baby!"

She got the glare to end all glares.

"Sorry." she giggled, going back to his neck.

A slight, pale young man stared back at her. No hollows around the eyes or cheeks. And, his hair! Dingy blond & shoulder length, tied back with a bit of ribbon.

For some reason, she looked down, & was treated to some antique buckled shoes...

With hose!

"Oh, for fuck–" she heard, distantly, "We ALL wore hose."

 _Basil never wore hose._ she thought, contrarily.

"Do you mind?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm combining the original core of this story with the flashback glimpses I added later...  
> Not one of my better ideas.

People were all up & down the dirt street. There were about a dozen females, ranging from appallingly young to maybe late 40's. They all looked down shyly, apparently as he looked at them.

She started at his collarbone, letting her hands drift down his chest, his torso... She lifted the hem of his shirt, hand briefly splaying over his soft belly, before starting to manipulate the fastenings of his jeans.

"Ohhh– glamour?"

She pulled back, & he groaned, missing her tongue already.

"A little." she admitted.

"Stop that." he took over, pushing the ragged denim out of the way & freeing his cock, over the waistband of the underwear. "You don't have to make it better."

She licked her lips, going back to his neck. He took her hand, wrapping it around him. He leaned back, again, watching as he moved in her grip; skin sliding, pearlescent moisture beading.

"Fuck, yeah." he bit his bottom lip, "How about you?"

He tugged at the elastic to her sweats. They were the same purple ones as before, but with a different shirt. It was vintage Propaganda, with a cute blonde laying on a casket... In her underwear.

_Speaking of which–_

He dipped his fingers into what he knew were cotton bikinis. She was on fire, & more than just wet.

More random images. Woods. A full moon shining brightly overhead. A handful of the same women, all in different stages of undress–

 _Only one male witch_. She heard him laugh, in wicked delight.

She was desperately conflicted.

"Säg att du vill ha det. Be om det, lilla häxan."

She stared at him. She shouldn't. She really, really, really shouldn't.

His fingers went from gently probing to penetrating.

She pulled the shirt off... No bra, again. He merely raised his eyebrows.

She was in a little house, looking at a tattered manuscript. The words were svenska. The pictures were woodcuts. People bowed to kiss the Devil's posterior...

"Prestarna tvingas kyssa geten bakåt. Oheliga blasfemier, Satan du är överlägsen!"

Grunting... Groaning.

Her eyes blinked open.

He pressed her breasts together. Suckling & nibbling, he watched her face all the while. She moaned, grinding on him.

"You know, there's a full moon tonight." he tried to guide his cock against her, but gave up. Between the sweats, her undies, & a panty liner, (he was fairly sure) it was just a nice, soft apex.

"Oh? Planning to run amok in the woods?" she took him back in hand, thumbing his weeping slit.

He shivered. Suddenly, she was up & shimmying out of the sweatpants.

"Come on."

His jaw dropped.

"WHAT?!"

She was at the door. She turned to look over her shoulder at him.

"Take off your clothes & get out here & fuck me."

Every once in a great while, she surprised him.

Even surprised as he was, he lost no time in shedding his clothes. He was hot on her heels when she turned, luminescent. Her nipples were taut & scraped his own chest, exciting him to a ridiculous extent. He gripped her ass, ready to fuck her right there on his doorstep.

"Which one?"

He just stared at her.

_Which hole, maybe?_

"Which grave, silly. I know there must be one–"

"Ohh. What if it's a crypt? What if I want to fuck you into a moldering old corpse?"

She was touching herself & making his mouth water. Round & round; fondling her tits, thumbing her nipples.

"Clock's ticking, baby."

He grabbed her, turning her to again face away from him.

"Want to play make believe?" he rumbled, one hand gripping her hip. His wet, throbbing cock found its way easily between her legs.

She arched against him, shamelessly. He hissed, his other hand snaking around to her front.

"I _know_ it's you."

He had a weird little fantasy, a 'Some Kind of Stranger' thing, where he would sneak up from behind... It had started during The Ripper terror over in England.

She very rarely indulged him. She was far too visual.

"Alltid våt, din lilla slampa... Vill alltid ha en kuk i dig-"

"Careful. You _know_ I can figure what you're saying, now?"

He bent her, just slightly.

"Säg att du vill ha det... Min kuk. Du behöver det inuti dig och fylla dig själv med mitt gift. Låt mig förstöra dig."

He was clawing her hip, ready to stick it in her.

"Okay, enough with the svenska, my little demon. Yes. I want your big dick. It's very nice. We are out here for some slightly different naughtiness. Step away from the shed."

She moved away.

"And, don't call me a _slut_ again."

He pouted a little, which always looked weird on Mary.

Of course, there was more than one tomb. He pinned her up against the rusty gates to several crypts. He layed her out on crumbling slabs. He took particular delight in having her drape dramatically on all manner of crucifixes. He had her bent over an old bench, when she asked an interesting question.

"Do you want me to call my friends?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck– _wait_." he pulled out, & she made a little unhappy sound. "Do what, now?" he panted.

She flipped on to her back, legs spread wide. He watched her cunt still working, calling to him to finish. 

"How many?"

She thought, idly touching herself.

"One, two–"

He shivered. There was a slight spring breeze, & he was trying desperately _not_ to touch himself. In any way. He was so dangerously close to coming...

"Five. A good five sisters. All well established in the church."

He watched her slide her middle finger in... then, the index digit.

"Experienced."

"Mmm-hmm."

She arched into her own ministrations.

"Dix. Please–"

"Hm?"

"I'm about to cum."

"As well you should, so you can begin recovering for later."

He twitched.

"Come on." she patted the bench. She let him get resituated, & straddled him.

She leaned forward to torment a tiny brown nipple, & he started poking at her clit with his tip. It lasted all of a minute, before she started guiding him back into her.

"How did your friends suddenly figure into the equation?"

She sat flush on him, clenching.

"Oh, FUCK. Yes–"

"I might've, um, mentioned that y'all have been having little orgies in the woods..."

His eyes rolled, & now he clawed her thighs.

"And, they're interested?"

" _Beyond_ interested. Kind of obsessed, actually."

She quickened her pace, but, he upset the dynamic. He pushed her back & held her hips down, not allowing any movement on the cool old concrete.

He fucked her _ruthlessly_.

"Säg det- Säg. Det."

"You feel so good, Mary." she purred, fingers grazing the rough patches of his hair.

He stuttered & grunted, coming completely undone. He didn't linger, pulling her so they were both sitting up, facing each other.

"I am in so much trouble." she sighed.

He kissed her.

"In for a penny, in for a pound?"

"I have another question."

"Shoot." he said gamely, but, he was actively shaking.

"Let's go back, at least for a bit." she pushed back his goofy forelock, "Let me warm up your cold bones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those are Sacred Blasphemy lyrics, modified into Swedish.  
> And, yes... he was jerking off to a Satanic manuscript.
> 
> Tell me he wouldn't.
> 
> LOTS of svenska. He's in a mood. (Totally just made all that up.)
> 
> The "five" are basically my squad, with Carol B. thrown in...  
> She gave me a bad idea, which will be addressed, soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Difficult questions.  
> Mary's predilections *did* trigger a mini conversation with Carol B. Couple's counseling & playing dead came up.  
> Totally took over my thought processes, for a bit.

They trooped back to the shed, which had gotten a small ways away. Once inside, he immediately burrowed under his covers. She joined him, & smooched the ice-cold tip of his nose.

"Question?" he prompted.

"Let's just forget I said anything."

"Uh-uh. NO. It's too late, now."

She sighed.

"You know I spend a lot of time in the libraries, right?"

"I do, now."

"Cute. Well, there's a whole stack of stuff here on colonial witchcraft &... necrophilia."

"You don't say?"

"I do say."

He was eyeing her.

"And?"

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"You don't— You don't ever want me to pretend that I'm— dead... Do you?"

Sure enough, he was offended.

"What the fuck do _you_ think?"

She winced.

"I guess– I guess I never really thought about it."

"Lies make Jesus cry, Dix. You didn't want to think about it. So, why now?"

She looked down into the darkness under the covers. It was a combination of things. The materials in the library. Talking with her friend, Carol, who also worked in the library...

(It had been a very strange, very vague discussion. Couple's counseling was mentioned.)

And, her poor Basil, who was having a horrible time dealing with plague PTSD.

"I'm sorry."

He went on to his back, pulling her next to him.

"I know what I did was wrong. It's an ultimate taboo, but, despite everybody's goddamn opinion, IT WASN'T BECAUSE THEY WERE DEAD."

She really didn't want to be having this conversation.

Back in the street, another girl had her back to him. He couldn't help himself, creeping up to grab her from behind.

She squeaked in surprise. She had long, strawberry blond hair, & smelled like rosewater.

"Faith. Is. Mine." he growled; she slapped at him, ineffectively.

Oh, God... Was _that_ where it had come from?

She turned, & Dix broke the connection, appalled.

"She looked a lot like you. I'm not sure how much you're influencing things– but, yeah. She was a pale, pretty little thing."

Faith turned, laughing. Her teeth had been straighter. Not as fangy...

And, SO MANY freckles.

"Leave me be, scoundrel!"

He actually did, before anybody noticed. Her heart fluttered a little.

"You loved her."

He was digging her grave. He was planning to open her coffin back up... Just for a lock of hair.

"I still have it." she heard, distantly.

Something changed, the deeper he dug. She had died, untouched. He was getting harder & harder. It wasn't right.

"Did you feel it tear?"

Dix slapped a hand over her mouth, ashamed of herself.

He blinked at her, before nodding slowly.

"Tell me you hate me."

She shook her head.

"Make me understand."

"How can I?" he stared up toward the ceiling, at nothing. "I don't understand it, myself."

She had no words. Honestly. Asking about a dead girl's maidenhead...

"I've fucked plenty of perfectly normal girls with a pulse, you know."

"Damn it. I left my banana stickers back in the suite."

"Har-dee-har. You & the rat man think you're _so_ clever–"

"He is!" she punched him, lightly. "He's wonderfully clever, & you can be, too. So, quit being so damn snarky."

He allowed himself a good minute to sulk.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

They both devolved into laughter.

"Anything else?" he finally asked her.

"Oh, I've got a couple of things."

" _Great_."

She gestured to his headboard.

"Handcuffs?"

"Handcuffs."

"Some of them are rare pieces, you know."

"That's nice, dear."

He frowned. 

"You always chain me up, with them."

"And, I will continue to do so... Lord willing & the creek don't rise."

"I've never chained you up–"

"Not gonna."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I never promised you a rose garden."

"I've never gotten to tie you up, or restrain you in any way–"

"And, you're not gonna."

"Mary–"

"You can _Mary Jane_ me, all night long. This is what caused all the trouble at Halloween."

" _You_ called me a bitch." she poked his chest, for emphasis.

He paused, gauging her reaction.

"I am sorry about that. I never knew that was a whole thing, with you."

"What. Ever."

"No, not whatever. You were bent on punishment, that night. I don't play that. I am no submissive."

"Why not?"

"I was confined, tried, executed, & buried alive. No chains. Definitely no ropes... Not even a strand of dental floss."

"I hung in a pillory for three days."

"I am not you, boo."

"I let Basil do all kinds of interesting things to me."

"Not a stunning endorsement of your mentality."

"I trust him."

"Again."

"You don't trust me?"

He just stared at her, stymied.

"Turnabout is fair play." she guided a wrist toward one of the dangling cuffs. He went wild-eyed.

" _Don't_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of a hard chapter...
> 
> Mary's a twisted little creature, but, primarily an opportunist.  
> He *is* a filthy libertine, though.  
> Just don't try to tie him up.
> 
> Faith's little story is probably the most tragic.
> 
> Next chapter should get back to sexy times, if I haven't lost everybody with this one. 😅


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This. Is. Just. Filth.  
> Total.  
> Unrepentant.  
> ...  
> Y'all welcome.

He was low-key freaking out. She let him go.

She wasn't mean, just for the sake of being mean.

"I should be getting back."

"Oh, no you don't. You still have to call your friends–"

"I'm going to. I bet Basil's good & pickled, by now."

"So?"

"I've been trying to keep him from it."

He frowned.

"I want you there."

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary... You _know_ that I'm no swinger. Do you really want to watch Swiss fuck me, so badly?"

"Not just him. I figure you can handle the three of us."

"You & Basil about kill me!"

"Hardly."

He was warming to his subject & engorging, all over again.

"I can't sit, after you two. For days."

"Dew wants you to bite him, again."

It didn't take much, for her to figure–

"He wants to jerk off, this time?"

"Mmm-hmm." he kissed her cheek, very sweetly. He turned on his side, to blatantly rub his hard-on against her thigh. "At the very least."

"And, you're all right with this?"

He was leaving a rather sticky trail.

"I can hardly invite you to a fuck party, & expect you not to want to fuck."

"So _enlightened_ , my Mary."

"Mmm." he was watching the skin slide on his cock, seemingly fascinated.

"But, _three_ of you?"

"We got really loaded, last time... Came up with a whole game plan."

"For little old me?"

"For little old you." he growled, rolling on top of her. She arched against his hot, restored erection.

"I really need to get back–"

He gently squeezed one of her breasts, thumbing the nipple before biting into the white inner flesh.

"Oh!" she clutched again at the rough, close-cropped part of his hair. He took himself in hand, alternating between tapping or rubbing against every part of her pussy that was external.

"Jag vill sätta min kuk i dig–"

"English, Mary." she squirmed, "The Swedish is hot, but, I can hear your mind translating as you go. Just be a filthy little bastard."

"I want to put my dick in you, & I want them both to see. I want you to cry & beg, & tell them how good it feels, as I fuck you. Swiss wants your sweet ass... (I told him how fucking tight it is.) Dew wants to cum all over your cute tits, & wouldn't be opposed to a nice, long suck."

Well, she _had_ asked for it...

"That is an alarming level of detail."

He was now tormenting the hell out of her, popping his tip into her, then pulling out.

"You have no idea."

She caught a fleeting mental image, though.

"A circle jerk?!"

"Yesss–" he snarled, finally pushing all the way into her, apparently tired of his little game. She canted her hips, & he pulled her feet up on his shoulders.

"Show all of it to me."

"You're a sick little witch, you know that?"

"Careful." she turned her feet to sort of embrace his head. He found a way to kiss an ankle.

"You _like_ the idea of three men beating off to you?"

"You know that I do." she stretched her arms overhead, lifting her tits beautifully, & showcasing his glaring red love bite. "I love to watch y'all masturbate. I love the ones that moan & groan... & then, the cumshot. So good."

"You're disgusting."

"SHOW ME. Did they keep their masks on? What about the nameless sisters that you lured into this? If I knew you were jerking off to the idea of some other girl, I'd have bopped you one."

He turned red... Well, Mary always had a blue-ish undertone... So, more purple. A kind of mottled plum color. He was still propped up, & watching intently as he slid his dick in & out of her.

"Inte bara någon annan tjej–"

She gasped.

"You rotten little– That's terrible!"

"We were so trashed." he chewed his bottom lip. "Tell me, is this–"

"It's delicious, but I need it faster. I've got to get back to church."

"No, you don't." she pulled her legs down, & he spread them as far as possible. "You want it harder?"

"Fuck, yes... you filthy boy. Give it all to me. I want you, balls deep."

He grunted with the exertion of pumping faster & faster, while filling her over & over again. She writhed a bit, clutching at his old pillows before deciding to claw his thin shoulders. She drew up & tightened inside, while she still had a coherent thought in her head.

"Oh, yeahhh, baby– Oh, FUCK yeah– You feel so fucking good–"

He was clammy with sweat. Mary, as a rule, didn't sweat.

"It's because you're killing me with your cunt, you wicked succubus."

She was really wishing for one of Basil's mirrors. Him fucking her like this would've been something to see.

"I'll fuck you in his bed, later–" he panted.

"No, degenerate." she nipped at his earlobe, somehow catching it & sucking it. "But, once I set you up in the church proper, I want a mirror on the ceiling. I want to watch your pretty ass, when you fuck me."

He just looked at her, positively feral.

"About to cum?"

He nodded, words apparently beyond him, at that moment. She acted quickly, tipping him backward & climbing astride him. She generally came, when she was on top, & she was _more_ than ready. He moaned pitifully as she fell into a quick rhythm.

"Good?" she asked.

He nodded again, gorgeous eyes half-mast.

"Too much?"

He wasn't quite sure how to answer that.

"Do you trust me?"

He shook his head. Of course not.

"Trust me."

She tore into her own wrist, pressing the bloody gash to his mouth. He made an ecstatic, happy little sound.

Then, she bit his neck, going for the same wounds from earlier.

"Oh, _fuck_ me!" he wailed, "What _is_ this?"

She couldn't help giggling. He seized her wrist, again... but, his eyes rolled & he came violently.

"Oh, wow." she somehow ended up staring at the ceiling. For more than a minute.

He clung to her, desperately.

"What. Was. That?"

"Mutual blood exchange. Role swap."

"Ohh, God."

"Are you okay? Basil hates it. As in, really hates it."

"This is why I don't trust you."

"Aww–"

"I take it that you _don't_ hate it?"

She pressed a kiss to his temple.

"What gave me away?"

He was actively shaking.

"So, that was being fucked, as opposed to doing the fucking?"

She frowned.

"I suppose that is one way of looking at it."

"You're never going to be rid of me, pulling shit like that."

"OKAY. I won't do it agai– Wait. What?"

"You heard me."

Sure, she had heard him... But. What did it mean?

"I need to get back–"

"Woman, I will chain you to the headboard. Don't test me."

"Ooh, scary Mary."

He had completely wrapped himself around her.

"I demand cuddles." he mumbled against her neck.

She snorted.

Mary Goore. Godless heathen. Necromancer. Snuggle slut.

"Only for you, liten häxa. Bara för dig."

_~Fin._

_(For now.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dix managed to avoid the "fuck party" yet again.
> 
> Mary's sick, & so is she... But. She's rather unsure of all that his little scenario entails.
> 
> A quick end note:  
> She finally calls "Dad" (Basil). He is blissfully drunk, & offended over accidentally finding her porn stash/shame folder. (A bunch of "Wasteland" bits, with an actor that looks disgustingly like Mary. Or, Satan forbid, the Director.)  
> More on that, later.
> 
> And! Did y'all catch what I did, there? Vampire mind fuck, but, this time with Mary...  
> Who took it rather well, all things considered.


End file.
